Double Dating For Dummies
by WinButler
Summary: France has had quite enough of America and Canada's recent moping. And so, he makes it his business to set the two up on a romantic double date. With probably the two most inappropriate people on the planet. PruCan, RusUS, FrUK. Oneshot.


A/N: Bit of a rushed oneshot. Hope it's all right. There is non-explicit sex, by the way; if you think it needs to be M, let me know.

Double Dating For Dummies

"Are you quite sure we're doing the right thing here?" asked Arthur anxiously as he observed the table in the far corner from behind his menu. Francis had helpfully provided eyeholes in their menus, in the style of ridiculous spy movies. It was a jolly good thing the wine-bastard was such good friends with the proprietor of this particular dining establishment.

"But of course! We are about to make two people tremendously happy, darling Arthur. You will see. Have I ever been wrong yet?"

England snorted. France's matchmaking skills were hardly perfect. He tended to think the best way was simply to invade the vital regions of whoever he could find, and hope that their prospective lover would turn up to the rescue, and he would leave without having been beaten too badly.

Having said that, France's romantic wiles had undoubtedly worked on England (loath as he was to admit it) so he could hardly complain.

The targets this week were America and Canada. Not with each other, of course; both Francis and England had strongly objected to the idea of their two former colonies hooking up. Instead, France and England were setting the two boys up on a double date. England honestly thought France's ideas of ideal candidates for his dear boys were highly objectionable, but France had insisted.

And so, at 8 o'clock on a fine July evening, in an upmarket French restaurant in New York, a bizarrely-dressed Englishman and a suave Frenchman were peering through holes in their menus at a pair of (nearly) identical blond boys in the far corner, who were anxiously awaiting their dates.

America and Canada had been...well, _depressed_ was really the only word for it. Canada had been stressed as hell recently, what with the Olympics, and everything, and had been especially busy in the last month or so catching up with paperwork. America, meanwhile, had been stuck in a rut for more than a year, his relationship with his former lover, Kiku Honda, having fallen through around eighteen months previously. Kiku was now very happily engaged to be married to Heracles Karpusi, Greece, and although Alfred had no feelings left for Kiku, his romantic life was, as far as Arthur knew, pretty dire.

And so France had come to England with an idea. Their two former wards would not be in this state for any longer. What they needed was a good thorough shagging, and who better to provide candidates than the country of _amour_?

And so a date had been set up. America and Canada had no idea who their dates were, but the dates in question knew very well.

Prussia and Russia entered the building together, and upon spotting the two blonds, made for the table.

America stood up to greet Prussia.

"Gil." He grinned. "Been a while. So you're my date, huh?"

"Sure am. Don't ask me how I was talked into this one, Jones, but I'm expecting a fun night out of you, and I'd better get it."

Russia, meanwhile, bent down to kiss Canada gently on the hand.

"Matthew." He said softly, smiling. "I am very glad to be your date this evening."

Matthew blushed heavily, quickly withdrawing his hand. "Ivan." He almost whispered. "It's nice to see you. You look nice tonight."

Ivan beamed. "Thank you, Matthew! You are very sweet. Shall we take a look at the menu, Gilbert?"

Gilbert scowled. When he had agreed to this date with America, it was because he thought that America was so desperate he'd be a quick, simple, and easy lay. They'd have a nice bloody steak, they'd down a few beers at the bar, they'd head over to The Loveshack (the only gig venue in the city with a halfway decent band on that night), and end up back at America's place for video games and a damn good fuck.

He had _not _signed on to watch Matthew, sweet, innocent, adorable Matthew get sexually assaulted by this rapetruck! This was bullshit.

Nevertheless, Gilbert made nice with the Russian, and ordered his meal. A nice, _very _bloody steak. Ivan ordered the same. Alfred, shockingly enough, had the biggest cheeseburger on the menu (why did this place even _have_ cheeseburgers on the menu? This was supposed to be a classy place), while Canada ordered the salmon.

"So." Began Prussia, determined to make even the most awkward, stilted conversation. "America."

"Yeah?"

"Well. Since you're my date for the night, I really think we ought to talk about shit we like, shit we don't, see if we have anything in common, y'know?"

America grinned. "OK. Let's see if we have anything in common, Gil. You like cheeseburgers?"

"Fuck no, they're too un-awesome. Hell, I'd eat my meat straight off the cow if I could."

"That's what she sai – wait, no, that doesn't work." America mumbled.

Prussia grinned. "OK. You like mudkips?"

Canada let out an impromptu giggle, elegantly snorting hollandaise on to the table.

America frowned. "The Pokemon? I like Pokemon. Oh, are you getting the new Pokemon? Soul Silver and Heart Gold, or whatever? Kiku promised me he could get me a copy early from Japan if I really wanted. He's so sweet."

A loud scraping was heard from Russia's end of the table as he violently cut into his steak. America winced.

Russia loudly exhaled and turned to Canada. "Dear Matthew, you should not be having to listen to their inane conversation, yes? You and I will talk about something else while those idiots discuss their Mudkips and their burgers."

Matthew reddened. "My brother's not an idiot, Russia, he's just difficult sometimes. And Gilbert's not – I mean – he's - "

Gilbert was grinning from ear to ear. "_Yes_? What am I, Mattie?"

"Nothing." Mumbled Canada. "Just. Not an idiot."

"Damn right."

"So, Gilbert." America grinned, clearly trying to make light of the situation. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

"I like melting stuff. I don't like stuff that doesn't melt."

Behind their menus, France and England were giggling like schoolgirls. "Everything is going off without a hitch!" cried a delighted France. "Soon the evening will come to a beautiful fruition, and everyone shall be happy. And our work for today will be done!"

England laughed, but he was still wary of France's choices. He wasn't sure he wanted a creep like Russia near his precious Matthew. He was very protective of Matthew when he remembered who he was, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to him because of Francis and his bloody meddling. Having said that, Russia could be OK when he wanted to be, he hadn't been nearly so insane as he used to be for many years. He was still pretty tough, though. England hoped Matthew could handle him.

Prussia, on the other hand, couldn't have been a worse choice, in England's opinion. Both he and America were so brash, so abrasive, so loud, overconfident and annoying, they were bound to get on each other's nerves after very little time at all.

But Arthur had to give Francis credit. Prussia and America were talking quite amiably (although he noticed Prussia stopping every few minutes to ask Matt a question, presumably to distract him from Russia. Considering how much he hated Russia, England couldn't imagine Prussia not trying to screw up his date). And Russia himself seemed to be doing OK, as he placed his hand atop Canada's. Canada blushed, but did not move away.

It was only when America had had a couple of beers that he began to act like the childish, excitable America that they all knew and loved.

"See, that's where you're wrong, you stupid commie! My skaters 'r the _best, _the _best _in the world, 'ur jus' _jealous, _see - "

"America. We have been over this. I have not been communist for nineteen years. And we are not having the skating argument again. While I have conceded that you may have some small amount of talent on the ice, you cannot formulate an argument to save your sorry life. Especially when you are drunk."

America snorted. "Shaddup you face." He murmured. "'s not _my _fault you stupid Russians can drink, like, I dunno, a _liter _of vodka and still be sober as a fuckin' priest, 'nd - "

Canada laid an arm on America's shoulder. "Al. I think you need to stop. Drink that water. And stop laying into Russia. He's not that bad, really. And he happens to be my date, so I'd appreciate it if you could give him a chance. I know neither of you two like him. But please, can't everybody just try to be civil?"

England smiled at France. "Told you I raised that boy right."

France smirked back, his hand rising on England's knee. "Ah, but my dearest England, I think, if you look into the vast recesses of your memory, you will find that _I _raised darling _Mathieu._ You, on the other hand, raised the drunken mess currently kissing his date senseless in a public place."

France was right. America had reached over the table and was snogging the face off of Prussia, who despite not being drunk, was still Prussia, and as such, was responding eagerly. Canada was looking oddly forlorn, staring down at the table, while Russia looked as though he was about to commit murder then and there. His steak knife was edging dangerously close to Prussia's back.

It was Canada that saved the situation by suggesting that they pick up the bill and head for Loveshack. The first band would be starting in fifteen minutes, and he was keen not to miss it.

They paid the bill, and America scampered off to call a cab. Russia stalked after him. Prussia, worried about Canada, hung back.

"Hey, look." He said, nudging Matthew on the shoulder. "I know he's your date and everything, but if that creep tries to touch you in any inappropriate way, just holler. I'll kick his ass for you."

Matthew smiled warmly. "Gil...you don't have to do anything like that. It's sweet of you, but I can handle myself."

Gilbert reddened. "Not saying you can't. Just...don't want you getting hurt, or nothin'. You're a nice kid."

Matthew frowned at this. "Is that how you think of me, Gil? As a kid?"

"Well, sorry! I thought we were friends. Forgive a guy for looking out for his friends!"

"Great." Said Matthew, shaking slightly. "Glad to know I'm such a good _friend_ to you, Gilbert."

He ran after Russia.

Fuck. That could have gone better.

* * *

Loveshack was packed to bursting with what Gilbert affectionately referred to as "scenesters". The first band, She Wants Revenge, were on the stage, and the two couples were standing away from each other. Both were on the balcony level, looking over the stage, but while Russia and Canada were on the left, Prussia and America had gone to the right. Each couple had a view of the other from their position.

Prussia and Canada did not speak the entire cab journey, and had not done so at all since their slight altercation earlier. Russia and America spent most of the cab journey arguing, but thankfully America had sobered up by the time they reached the club.

Canada cleared his throat, looking up at his intimidating date. "So. You like them?"

Russia sighed. "I confess I do not really know who they are. We do not often have this sort of music where I am from. Are the remaining two bands good?"

Canada nodded. "Sure. I really like them. So, what kind of music do you even listen to?"

Russia shrugged. "Mostly classical. I don't really have a lot of time to listen to music, unfortunately. My leisure time is very sparse."

"Oh. OK. I guess that makes sense. Maybe I just don't work hard enough!" joked Canada. "I mean, I do. I'm sure I do." he coughed. "I just come to a lot of concerts in this city. It's totally awesome here, just don't tell Alfred I said that!" He laughed.

Russia scowled. "Why are they touching each other that way?" he growled. He pointed to Prussia and America, who were kissing again, and Prussia's hand was very clearly on America's ass.

Canada sighed. "It's Prussia's life. He can feel free to kiss my brother all he wants. I just...don't get it. They don't have that much in common, really. They're both so hard-headed and loud. It won't work." He folded his arms.

Russia smiled at Canada. "You and Prussia get on very well, do you not?"

"I thought we did. I thought we were really good friends. But he's been really weird with me lately. He's started ignoring me sometimes, and sometimes he'll pretend we barely know each other, or that we're just casual buddies, and then he'll get wasted, and start telling me how I'm his best friend in the whole world."

"And are you?" asked Ivan.

"No, of course not, Antonio is. I just thought he and I had a different sort of friendship. He's a breath of fresh air from the people I usually spend time with. He's normally so honest. So self-aware. I don't know what I've done wrong." Said Canada miserably.

At the bar directly behind him, Francis scowled indignantly behind his fucking awesome Paul Banks 70s aviators. Admittedly, sunglasses in a club weren't the best idea, but they couldn't risk being recognised. "Hey! _I'm _Gilbert's best friend!"

England smacked him hard on the arm. "Would you shut the fuck up? You're the worst spy in the world. Oh, fucking hell, they're turning around, quick, hide, do something - "

That something, this being Francis, involved a heavy amount of his tongue in England's mouth.

"What?" he smirked as England shoved him off. "Nobody notices a kissing couple in a club."

* * *

"Woo! Fuck yeah!" Prussia yelled as the second support band took to the stage.

He turned to America. "So this band is pretty awesome, huh?"

America shrugged. He seemed to be paying very little attention, instead scanning the club for Russia and Canada, who had disappeared a matter of moments ago. "What? Oh. I don't know. It's Mattie that likes all the crap indie bands, not me. Look. They haven't even got a guitarist. The fuck?"

Prussia rolled his. "Should have figured a clueless jock like you wouldn't appreciate DFA 1979. Hey, where's Mattie gone? He was just there?"

Russia suddenly appeared America, tapping him on the shoulder.

"America. It's time." He said, looking meaningfully into America's eyes.

"Time for what, commie fuck?"

Russia smirked. "You've been pissing me off all evening. You and I are going to take this outside."

America gave a mocking gasp. "You mean like a rumble? Well, bring it on, bitch!"

He shoved Russia as hard as he could, knocking him into some disgruntled teenagers. Russia grabbed him by the collar and punched him, hard, in the stomach.

It was not long before the two were dragged unceremoniously outside by two extremely burly bouncers.

Prussia just looked confused. "What the fuck was that? They've been bitchy to each other, sure, but it hasn't been that bad. What the hell was all that?"

Canada looked immensely glum. "I honestly don't know."

Prussia cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Look Mattie, I'm - "

"Gilbert, I - "

"Oh. Um. You go."

Canada blushed. Was it him, or was it all of a sudden very hot in this club? "I'm sorry about earlier. I really overreacted. You were just looking out for me, and I was a total jerk to you. I just didn't want you to think of me like that. Like I'm a kid that always needs protecting."

Gilbert shook his head. He grabbed Matthew's hands. "Mattie, I swear, I don't think of you that way. I actually seriously don't. But fuck, everyone needs protecting from that bastard Russia. I would have been the same way if it was anyone else."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"

"Well, maybe not, maybe if it was Roddy, but I mean - "

Canada pulled his hands away. "Ah. You still like Austria. I see."

"Wait, what? Fuck, no. Ew. That was for like, a week, and was over a year ago. The awesome me is far too awesome to like anyone!"

"Oh. OK. I get it. Look, Gil, I think I might go check on Ivan and Al. I really don't want my brother to be murdered by my date."

Great. He had said the wrong fucking thing again. He had let Mattie run away from him. _Again._

* * *

Gilbert found Matthew sitting on a bench just outside the club, his head in his hands, looking thorough glum.

He took a seat beside him, and put a tentative arm around his shoulder.

"Do you know where they went?" he asked hesitantly.

Matt shook his head. "Nope. I really hope they've just gone their own separate ways. I really, really hope they haven't been picked up by the police, because I am sick of bailing Alfred out."

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why did you agree to this date with Ivan?"

"I didn't. I agreed to a date. I didn't know who it was going to be."

Gilbert frowned. "So, you didn't have anyone in mind? I mean, anyone who you wanted to be with?"

Matthew shrugged. "It's not like it matters. Maybe I do like someone, but he clearly doesn't feel the same way."

"Who is this asshat? If he doesn't think you're one of the coolest, sweetest, hottest, cutest and basically most _awesome _people on the planet, he's a fucking moron."

Matthew's heart stopped for a brief second. "Gil...you think I'm cute?"

"Well. I mean. Relative to other countries. Like your stupid brother."

"But he's your date."

"Are you kidding? I couldn't give less of a damn about him. He's all right, I guess. I only came on this double date because old Francis told me you'd be there."

"I – um. Gilbert. I don't understand."

"Don't matter. You like someone else, I knew you did, it's no big deal. I don't even like cute things. I'm way too manly for that shit. I just - "

Indeed, he had been cut off by Canada's soft lips pressed gently yet surprisingly firmly against his own.

Canada moved closer when he felt Prussia respond, threading his fingers through the ex-nation's hair and teasing his lips open.

Prussia, startled at this display of confidence from the shy young man, responded eagerly, thrusting his tongue into Matthew's mouth and pulling him closer.

After a lapse of perhaps a minute they pulled away, Canada completely red in the face, and Prussia panting slightly.

"_Fuck._" Prussia finally managed to get out. "So...you like me? The way I like you?"

Canada broke into a wide smile, threading his fingers through Prussia's. "Looks like it."

"Hey. Listen. They're playing my favourite song." Grinned Prussia.

Canada raised his eyebrows. "You like this band?"

"I love this band."

"Me too."

* * *

"Well, that was a remarkably interesting night." Commented England as his lover unbuttoned his pants. "Canada and Prussia. A better match than Russia would have been, that's for certain. You just tell your friend that if he messes with Canada in any way, I will go British Empire on his sorry non-country ass."

France smirked, sliding down England's pants and boxer shorts and kissing him fiercely. "Do not doubt, my love. Darling _Prusse _has been in love with our _Mathieu _for a very long time. He shall try his very best not to, ah, how do you say? Fuck it up."

"Hmph."

France smiled to himself. He couldn't take credit for the night's work, that was for certain. But he had played his part. He had done as he had been instructed. He was all too happy to do so. And, as he had been instructed, he had not breathed a word to England about the real purpose of the evening.

* * *

"Ah! Fuck, did you have to – oh god, yes, there, baby – did you have to punch so fucking _hard_?"

"Oh, well, I-_ah_ – I wanted it to be _realistic_, my darling."

"But you didn't – oh, _fuck_, do that again, do that harder – you didn't have to hit me like that. All I did was give you a little push."

"Y-you didn't _have _to kiss the face off that ingrate Prussia. And yet you did. Twice."

America smirked, rolling his hips into his boyfriend's. "Well, baby, I – unh, yes, just like that – I wanted it to be realistic!"

Russia scowled, pulling America's hips up so he could penetrate deeper. "I do not like you when you are sarcastic, my darling."

"No, you fucking _love _me."

Russia chuckled. "What is your expression? Ah, yes. Guilty as charged."

"Well, you –oh, yeah, mmm – you have to admit, it worked _perfectly_."

"We do not know that. For all we know, Canada has fled."

"No fucking way. The way he was looking at me when I kissed Prussia. I knew all it would take was a bit of good old-fashioned love rivalry to make those two idiots see how much they wanted each other. It's worked out. I know it. I really hope it has. Canada's been down as hell lately, and it was definitely Gilbert's doing."

"I – ah – appreciate your waxing eloquent on the subject of your brother and his prospective new lover, darling, but perhaps now is not the right time."

America moaned loudly and sucked hard on Russia's sensitive collarbone. "Yeah. Maybe you're right. Later."

"Later."

* * *

END.

A/N: Yah. I know. But France is always matchmaking for everyone, and I wanted Russia and America to be the plotters this time.

Notes on not-particularly obscure scenester/pretentious references: She Wants Revenge are a band. I don't actually think Canada would like them, and Russia _totally _would. DFA 1979 = Death From Above 1979. Paul Banks is the lead singer of Interpol, he wears some pretty beasty 70s aviators. They'd be the third band on at Loveshack, but no one hung around that long. Loveshack is a totally made up club, by the way. We have one where I live, but I'd eat my hat if they ever played any of these bands.

The melting line = Friends ref.

The whole thing is, like, sorta based on that episode of season 2 of The O.C. with the Ryan/Alex, Seth/Lindsay double date.


End file.
